“I am.”

  “Why?” the two men asked at the same time.

  Sighing, she propped her hands on the countertop. “Because that’s the way Otis wants it.”

  Gerald crossed his arms over his chest. “We thought Roman was here as added help, not to replace you.”

  Leonard grunted his annoyance. “He doesn’t know enough to replace her. Although, he does know the generator inside and out.”

  She said, “He will learn what he needs to know. We just have to give him time. Please don’t tell him that he’s taken my job or hold it against him. I was here on a temporary basis, and now I’m going back to my old job.”

  “It ain’t right,” Leonard grumbled as he turned away.

  Gerald gave her a sympathetic half-smile. “Well, that explains a lot. I know you like what you’ve been doing here. It’s got to be hard giving it up.”

  “It is, but all good things must come to an end, right?”

  “So they say.” Gerald went back to his typesetting table.

  Joann waited for Roman to return, determined to be kinder and more helpful. If only he didn’t insist on calling her teacher in that snide way.

  No matter what had been said between them, each evening when she went out the door, Roman was waiting in his buggy to drive her home. Each morning, he was waiting at the end of her lane to give her a lift into town. When Friday evening rolled around, he was there as usual. She was delighted to have a real excuse not to ride with him.

  “I’m staying in town this evening. I’m having supper with Sarah and Levi Beachy.”

  Was that a look of disappointment in his eyes? It was gone before she could be sure. He said, “I reckon I will see you on Monday, then.”

  “Actually, I’m driving my cart in on Monday so you won’t have to pick me up.”

  “I see.”

  He nodded toward her and then drove away, leaving Joann feeling oddly bereft. She watched until his buggy rounded a bend in the road and vanished from sight.

  At Sarah’s home, Joann found her friend tending her garden. Long rows of green sprouts promised a bountiful harvest in the fall. Sarah was busy making sure the occasional weed that dared to sprout didn’t stand a chance of growing to maturity.

  “Why don’t you put the boys to work doing that?” Joann called from the fence.

  Sarah looked up from her work and leaned on her hoe. “Because I want my garden to flourish and not be chopped to pieces.”

  “Are you saying the twins can’t tell a tomato plant from a dandelion?”

  “I’m sure they can but it’s safer if I do this myself. I’m so glad you could come for supper. Sally and Leah are coming, too.”

  “Wonderful.” The women had all become close friends after Sarah’s aborted attempt at playing matchmaker for Levi. The whole thing had been the brainchild of Grace, his sister. In spite of all the women Sarah had put in his path, he only had eyes for her.

  Sarah chopped one last weed and then walked toward Joann. “How are you and Roman getting along?”

  Joann sighed and shook her head. “Like oil and water. Like cats and dogs. Like salt and ice.”

  Sarah grinned. “In other words, just fine.”

  “Please, can we talk about something else?”

  Sarah’s grin faded. “Is it really that bad?”

  “Every time I open my mouth, I manage to say something stupid.”

  “I always thought you would make a nice couple.” Sarah carried her tools to a small shed at the side of the barn and hung them up.

  Joann was sure she hadn’t heard correctly. “You thought Roman and I would make a good couple? We barely knew each other. Why would you think that?”

  From behind them a man’s voice said, “It’s just a feeling she gets. She can’t explain it. It comes over her like a mist. She sees two people groping their way toward each other.”

  Sarah turned around and fisted her hands on her hips. “Do not make fun of my matchmaking skills, Levi Beachy. I found a wife for you, didn’t I?”

  He moved to stand close beside her. “If I remember right, I’m the one who found a husband for you,” he said softly.

  Joann chuckled. “If you two are gonna start kissing, I’m going to leave. However, I would like to point out that I knew before you did, Sarah, that Levi was in love with you. And I told you that, didn’t I?”

  Levi slipped his arms around his wife. “I remember all the effort she put into convincing me that she loved fishing. It was a ploy to get you and me together on a fishing trip, Joann. She hates fishing.”

  Sarah cupped his cheek with one hand. “I don’t mind fishing. As long as I don’t have to touch them, clean them or take them off the hook. If you wanted a fishing buddy instead of a wife you should’ve asked Joann to marry you.”

  Levi looked at Joann. “If I had only known, I would’ve given you much more serious consideration.”

  Joann giggled. “I’m afraid Sarah is the only one brave enough to take on you and the twins. I wouldn’t have the heart for it.”

  “Speaking of the twins,” Levi said as he looked around, “where are they?”

  “They went to a singing party at David and Martha Nissley’s place.” She whispered to Joann, “The Miller twins are going to be there.”

  Levi scowled. “Those girls are too young to be going out.”

  Sarah patted his arm. “They’re old enough to catch our boys’ attention. Get used to it, Levi. Once Grace is married, the boys will soon follow suit.”

  “Hey, that will leave us all alone, my love. Nice.”

  “Until the babies start arriving,” Joann added with a chuckle.

  Sarah took Levi’s hand and began walking toward the house. “We should go in. I’m sure Grace has supper about ready.”

  He stopped in his tracks. “Grace is cooking supper?”

  Sarah blew a strand of blond hair off her face. “Ja.”

  He turned to Joann. “If we hurry, we can beat the crowd to the Shoofly Pie Café.”

  Sarah yanked him toward the house. “Stop it. Grace’s cooking has gotten much better.”

  He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “She’ll never make a peach pie better than yours, liebchen. Remember that, Joann. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Good looks fade, good cooking never does.”

  Joann followed her friends to the house. Finding a way to a man’s heart wasn’t an issue for her. Her looks were nothing special, so it wouldn’t matter if they faded. Her last thought before she stepped into the house was to wonder what type of pie Roman liked best.

  It wasn’t until early Saturday morning that Joann had a chance to get away and go fishing again. She packed a couple of pieces of cold fried chicken left over from lunch, a few carrots and an apple along with a pint jar filled with lemonade into her quilted bag. She left a note for her brother and his family telling them she wouldn’t be home for the noon meal. When she arrived at the hollow log, she wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed when there was no message waiting for her.

  She left her pole in its hiding place. She didn’t really feel like fishing. She just needed to be by herself. The day had been warm, so she slipped off her shoes, gathered up her skirt and waded knee-deep into the cold water.

  The muck and moss squished between her toes. When she stood still, she could see tiny minnows swimming around her feet, eager to investigate the new intruder in their watery domain. She looked over the calm surface of the lake and blew out a deep breath. It was such a good place. She always felt happy when she was here.

  A splash off to the left made her look that way. She didn’t see the fish, but something white caught her attention. She waded toward a stand of cattails. Nestled among the reeds at the edge of the water was a plastic bag. She picked it up and recognized her letter tucked inside. With growing excitement, she opened the bag and pulled out her note. On the back, she saw her unknown friend had written another letter. Quickly, she waded back to shore and sat down to read it.

  Dear Happy Angler,

  I’m glad the pole has been returned to its rightful owner. Strange how things work out sometimes. You don’t owe me any thanks, but I appreciate the lure. I caught two nice four-pounders with it in the spot you suggested. Your gift brought me much more than a pair of fish. It brought me closer to someone I care about. Thank you for that. Like you, little seems to be going right in my life. I won’t bore you with the details. I will say that something about this peaceful spot makes my troubles seem smaller. Perhaps it’s only that I’ve gained some perspective while enjoying the quiet stillness of this lake. It’s a good place to sit and refresh my soul. I hope it has refreshed yours. The sunset tonight leaves me in awe of the beauty God creates for us. It is a reminder for me that He is in charge and I am not. Sometimes, it is hard to accept that.

  Have you caught anything good lately?

  A Friendly Fisherman

  Joann hugged the letter to her chest. How strange and yet how wonderful that this person had found the lake was a place to soothe away the problems of life. What problems did her unknown friend face? She wished she knew. She wished she could help.

  Joann smoothed the letter on her lap as she considered what to do next. Her first impulse was to write a note to the Friendly Fisherman, but was that wise? Was she really going to start a correspondence with someone she knew nothing about? Her innate good sense said it would be foolish.

  Yet something in the letter she held called to her. Someone else faced troubles and was still able to appreciate the beauty of the natural world.

  She read the letter again. There was nothing to tell her if the author was Amish or Englisch, single or married. She strongly suspected it was a man. He’d signed it the Friendly Fisherman, not Fisherwoman. Joann had encountered few of her gender who enjoyed fishing as much as she did. And there was the rub.

  The unknown writer probably assumed she was a man, too.

  What would he think if he learned she was an Amish maiden? Would he laugh at the thought that she spent her free time making fishing lures and studying the lakes and ponds around Hope Springs? Would he even reply to her note if he knew the truth?

  She wrestled with her conscience. It was wonderful to find someone who saw this place the way she saw it: as a God-given gift that refreshed her soul.

  On the other hand, exchanging letters with a stranger would be frowned upon by her family. If he were Englisch, her brothers might forbid it outright. Joann realized she had started down a slippery slope. First, by hiding the pole her brother had tossed in the lake. Now, she was considering a secret correspondence, as well. The thought of doing something forbidden was romantic and exciting. When would something exciting come into her life again? Quite likely, never.

  She read the letter for a third time. This fisherman, whoever he was, wasn’t eager to be known. Otherwise, he would’ve signed his true name. He might be someone she knew who was troubled. Didn’t she have an obligation to help in her own small way?

  The smart thing to do would be to toss the note away and not write another one.

  Joann, who had long accepted that she was a smart woman, chose the unwise course. She pulled out her journal and wrote another letter.

  When she was finished, she read it over. Nothing hinted that she was a female. She’d taken pains to make her writing dark and bold. Nothing hinted that she was Amish, either, only that she had faith in the healing power of God’s love. She hoped it would find its way into the Friendly Fisherman’s possession and cheer him.

  With that in mind, she drank the rest of her lemonade, then rinsed and dried the jar with a corner of her apron. She tore the page out of her journal, put the letter inside the jar and screwed on the lid. The log had a knothole in its side where a branch had broken off the tree long ago. The jar fit perfectly inside the cavity.

  Would the Friendly Fisherman find it? It wasn’t apparent to the casual observer and that was the way she wanted it. She gathered a handful of small pebbles from the shore and laid them on the ground in the shape of an arrow pointing to the knothole. It was a subtle clue, but if the other fisherman was looking for a reply, he would see it.

  Joann ate the remains of her lunch and enjoyed a pleasant few hours watching a family of ducks paddle and dunk for food in the lake. Glancing at her note’s hiding place one last time, she realized she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t continue the correspondence unless she was completely truthful. She didn’t have to add her name, but her unknown friend deserved to know he was writing to a single, Amish woman. If he was a married man, his wife might take a dim view of their perfectly innocent letters. She took out her note and added a postscript. Then, she started for home with a new and profound sense of excitement bubbling through her. She’d come as often as she could to check her makeshift mailbox.

  Perhaps she might even meet her Friendly Fisherman.

  Chapter 8

  “What’s the lesson for today, teacher?”

  Joann kept her temper in check by praying for patience. It was finally Wednesday morning. Only two more days of his constant company. She could hardly wait.

  Roman leaned on the counter in front of her with that annoying grin on his face. He knew she hated it when he called her teacher in that mocking tone. Oh yes, he knew, and he made a point of calling her that every day since he’d started.

  “What’s the matter, teacher? Has the cat got your tongue?”

  She was determined to be pleasant in spite of his taunts. “We’re going to the Walnut Valley school board meeting.”

  Walnut Valley was one of several Amish schools that dotted the county. Leah Belier was the teacher there. The school stood a few miles west of Hope Springs, on Pleasant View Road.

  He grinned. “So my teacher is taking me to school.”

  “Ja. Be careful, or you’ll learn something,” she snapped as she walked out the door. He followed close behind her.

  She had driven her pony and cart to work that day, so she wouldn’t waste as much time getting to and from the school. She unhitched Barney and climbed into the cart. Roman climbed in beside her and reached for the reins. “I’ll drive.”

  “I’m quite capable of driving my own cart to Walnut Valley without any assistance from you.”

  His hand closed over her wrist in a firm grip. “No point in taking two vehicles. I may only have the use of one arm, but I can handle a pony cart. I drive or we sit here all day.”

  “Okay.” She quickly relinquished her hold and tried to rub away the tingling sensation his touch caused.

  He frowned at her. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Nee, I’m fine.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest and scooted to the far edge of the seat. She’d never admit his touch did funny things to her insides. It wasn’t that she liked him. It had to be something else.

  * * *

  Roman glanced at the woman seated beside him. She looked as jumpy as a cricket in a henhouse. Why was she so nervous? Surely, she wasn’t afraid to be alone with him. Her tongue was sharp enough to fend off any man.

  She noticed his gaze. “It would be nice if we weren’t late,” she said tartly.

  No, she wasn’t afraid. He backed the tawny-brown pony into the street and sent him trotting down the road. After traveling in silence for a mile, he asked, “What kind of things will you report from this meeting and others like it?”

  She began to relax. “Not me. You’ll be writing up this report. Did you get a notebook as I suggested? If not, I have one you can use.”

  “I brought a notebook and two pens, teacher. I’m prepared.”

  She bristled. “Basically, you should take note of things that are important to the community. People want to know if the school has enough funds for the coming year. They want to know who the new school board officials are and if there are any needs among the children.”

  “What kind of needs?”

  “Well, last year one of the children starting in the first grade was in a wheelchair. The school needed to install ramps and make all areas of the school wheelchair accessible. Your uncle ran the story in his paper and a large number of people, including your father, showed up to help remodel the building.”

  “I remember the day. He took a load of wood with him to donate.”

  “Were you there?” she asked.

  “I stayed to work in the sawmill, but my mother and brother went to help.”

  She fell silent for a while. He concentrated on driving. “I haven’t asked what your father thinks of you working for Otis,” she said.

  “My father looks forward to the day I can return and work with him.”

  “So you see this job as a temporary one. I get it now.”

  “You get what?”

  “Why you don’t seem interested in learning the business.”

  “Maybe I don’t seem interested because I don’t have a good teacher.”

  That silenced her. She clamped her lips closed and looked off to her side of the road. He regretted the harsh remark almost instantly, but before he could apologize, a red sports car whizzed past as they were cresting a hill. It narrowly missed an oncoming car and had to swerve back quickly in front of them. Roman closed his eyes.

  He heard the crack of splintering wood a split second before the truck hit him. He heard squealing tires as he flew through the air. He landed with a sickening impact and tumbled along the asphalt. There was blood in his mouth. He couldn’t get up.

  “Roman, watch out!”

  He opened his eyes to see the pony had swerved dangerously close to the edge of the deep ditch. He managed to bring the animal back into the roadway without upsetting them. As soon as he could, he pulled to a stop.

  He drew a ragged breath. “I’m sorry.”

  Joann didn’t make the snide remark he expected. “Are you all right?” she asked quietly instead.